


Wake Me Up

by lwtlondon



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 2015 1D, Crying Harry, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Kitten Harry, M/M, Mutual hatred of Modest, Non AU, One Shot, Reminiscing, Sad Louis, Sharing a Bed, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Kisses, Talking about stunts, Tattoo tracing, based on an ed sheeran song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 20:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11298714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lwtlondon/pseuds/lwtlondon
Summary: My throat was starting to tighten up, but I swallowed it down. I could tell he felt just as desolate.I brought my thumb up to his face to wipe away the tears forming in his eyes.“Don’t cry,” I mumbled, “It only makes it harder.”He looked up at me, giving me a sad smile. I knew he was trying. We were trying so fucking hard, damn it!orIn which Harry and Louis cuddle in bed the night before a show, reminiscing about the days they were free.





	Wake Me Up

I switched off the lights and climbed into bed. Street lights lit up the room from outside, giving the space a yellowish glow.  
   
I knew it was a risk to keep the curtains open, but I loved the way the moon danced over Harry’s face.  
   
I pulled the covers over me, resting my head on the pillow and facing him with our feet tangled together.  
   
I wondered if he could smell the smoke that lingered on my body. He hated it, and wanted me to quit. I always gave him the same pathetic excuse: that the paps can’t publish the pictures if I’m smoking in them.  
   
Harry was a hypocrite. I got drunk a lot, but he drank just as much as me. It eased the pain. Numbed your awareness. Softened the blow. Cigarettes were the same.  
   
I shifted closer to him and ran my fingers through his curls, twirling a strand around my finger. He promised me he’d never cut it.  
   
I grinned at him and he pouted, begging for a kiss in the same way he always has.  
   
I gently placed my hand on his cheek and closed my eyes, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. I pulled away to see him staring at me, his eyes open and full of wonder.  
   
It was now November, and Harry’s usually emerald eyes were beginning to grow dull. They did that in the winter.  
   
His smile quickly faded, and he looked at me with those wide, hopeful, green-grey eyes.  
   
“You’ll be home next week, right?”  
   
My heart sunk.  
   
“You know I can’t promise you that,” I told him. I couldn’t bear this anymore. The beards and the pap walks and the rumours and the lie of it all.  
   
I would give this all up, all the fame, the fans, everything, just for him.  
   
I know he wouldn't dare let me.  
   
He twirled his ring around on his finger, biting his lip.  
   
“I know, Lou.”  
   
My throat was starting to tighten up, but I swallowed it down. I could tell he felt just as desolate.  
   
I brought my thumb up to his face to wipe away the tears forming in his eyes.  
   
“Don’t cry,” I mumbled, “It only makes it harder.”  
   
He looked up at me, giving me a sad smile. I knew he was trying. We were trying so fucking hard, damn it!  
   
I reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze.  
   
“Soon,” I whispered, bringing his hand up to my face to kiss the back of it.  
   
Harry’s face crinkled up.  
   
“That’s what we’ve been saying for the past five years,” he whined, “Dunno how much longer it’ll go on.”  
   
I sighed. It was already so obvious. The stunts were getting more and more pathetic, and almost no one was buying it. What was the point of it all?  
   
Little did we know, our time before Modest was truly golden; it was before management dressed us up and groomed us into the perfect little angels we had to be.  
   
Back in 2010, we had absolutely no idea what we were getting into. All we saw was a shiny contract that would fulfill all our dreams and lead us down the road of success.  
   
I’m fortunate to say that Harry is my anchor. He grounds me when I feel like the waves are too rough and I’m gasping for air and there’s saltwater in my lungs.  
   
I brought my finger up to his chest, tracing the cluster of tattoos inked in his skin.  
   
A butterfly, two birds, a ship, two ferns to replace the V-line he lost with age. I knew the meaning of all of them.  
   
The ship to my compass.  
   
The heart to my arrow.  
   
The rose to my dagger.  
   
The anchor to my rope.  
   
I wish I could shout his name from the rooftops. This was the closest I could get.  
   
Harry shivered, and I wrapped my arms around his torso, pulling him closer so we could feel each other’s body heat.  
   
Our bodies were knitted together and we were breathing the same air and I wish I could stay in this moment forever.  
   
I gave him a peck on the nose.  
   
“You should get to sleep,” I said, tracing patterns into his back, “We’ve got a show tomorrow.”  
   
“Wake me up with tea?” he asked, blinking at me.  
   
I nodded, “Of course, love.”  
   
Our chests were touching and I could feel both of our hearts beating against each other, slow and steady.  
   
Whilst Harry’s breaths slowed down, I stayed awake.  
   
Harry was so fucking beautiful when he slept. I swear, you could put him next to a sleeping kitten and I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.  
   
His lips were slightly parted, and I could feel his eyelashes flutter against my cheek. He breathed onto my neck, making me shiver.  
   
If only he could see what I saw.  
   
My Harry.  
   
 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! Ao3 is a bit confusing to me.
> 
> IG: @larrysgemini


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